Bilbo's TreasureHunting Adventure
by allergictoalgebra
Summary: Basically, Frodo FINALLY gets around to reading the Hobbit. He does so with bits and pieces of the Fellowship by his side with interesting comments, etc. Booyah.


A/N: Hola. Bienvenidos. Welcome to my FIRST fanfiction on this site. :D Haha, it makes me so happy. And gives me a sense of responsibility…bwahahaha…not like I know how to use it. And my name's Evelyn. I am…THE OMNIPOTENT AUTHORESS…so don't flame me. Use constructive criticism, please, or my rabid snipe army shall feast upon your soul.

Have fun reading. makes note of the sarcasm

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien. Otherwise, I would be dead and rolling in my grave for amateur fanfiction such as the following. Neither am I Orlando Bloom, Viggo Mortensen, Frodo, Bilbo, etcetera. I AM AN UNCOOL CAT. BOOYAH. So don't sue me. Or the voices.

Voice One: AGH! OUR SECRET IS OUT!

Voice Two: The horror…we should ignore her for a while, what do you say?

Voice One: Agreed.

Oh, and also, I deeply respect Tolkien as an author, so…don't flame me for being a bit irreverent towards him, okaysss?

---------------Chapter One---------------

Frodo Baggins fingered the parchment cover of the book thoughtfully. "There and Back Again," he read aloud from the cover. "By Bilbo Baggins." Then he read the fine print at the bottom that scrawled, "Actually J.R.R. Tolkien. But who cares?" He made a small circle with his mouth, accidentally dropping his pipe filled with hobbit weed onto the table.

Suddenly, a furry head popped through the window. Two, actually, then a rather fat one.

"Hallo, Mr. Frodo!" said Samwise Gamgee's voice. His plump cheeks were rosier than usual, probably because he had just finished his weekly mushroom picking round, and the midday sun was hot this time of year. And his wife, coincidentally named Rosy, seemed to be smothering with more kisses than usual.

Frodo turned to the window to see three of the members of the former Fellowship: Merry, Pippin, and of course, Sam. "Why, bust my buttons!" He popped his pipe back into his mouth, inhaling deeply as he did so.

Merry elbowed Pippin and began to laugh. "What a queer saying, Frodo old chap. Now, if I do say so myself, it's an absolutely spiffing pleasure to meet your on this glorious day! What say ye, Mr. Took?"

Pippin flashed a mischievous smile, and decided to follow along the same line of the eloquent speech. "Ah, it's a wonderful day, Mr. Brandybuck! The birds, they are singing, the sun, it shines, and the grass, why, any more emerald and the Dwarves would be after it, I'd imagine." He chortled, then poked Frodo's head. "Watcha doin', you old bag of Hobbit fur? Edjumacatin' yerself?"

This forced a laugh out of the hobbit who decided he best let them in. They probably had food, after all. What good was a party without food? "Come in."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Frodo," gushed Sam.

So, they all came in, gorging on sponge cake and applesauce, then consuming an unhealthy portion of turkey afterwards. This was when Sam decided to make a comment:

"Sooo, Mr. Frodo, what wash it you wash ashually doin' before we cames in?" He had, oddly enough, consumed more of the food than all the other hobbits combined and seemed to be quite inebriated. This would cause him a nice beating upside the head with a rolling pin when he got home, but alas, he decided the physical abuse was worth it.

Frodo coughed. "Half a moment, and I'll show you." He ambled over to the desk just a few rooms away, almost tripping on the footstool he sat on, and snatched the thick book off the smooth oak. He scurried back to the living room to make sure Pippin hadn't roasted his feet in the fireplace or whatnot, and sat down.

"So?" asked Merry. "What is it?"

"A book," conceded Frodo shamelessly.

"MY GOSH! A BOOK! YOU LOSER!" shouted Merry. "HOW COULD YOU LET YOURSELF GO SO LOW, FRODO BAGGINS! HOW COULD YOU!"

"Shut it," said Pippin. "It's just a book. Let Frodo explain."

The hobbit squirmed somewhat uncomfortably in his place so close to the hearth. Maybe it was too close, but he didn't care. "So, it's the book Bilbo wrote about his treasure-hunting journey. There and Back Again, he called it."

"Oh…" said Merry. "I see. But may I see the book?"

Frodo gently handed it to the curly-haired creature. "Don't mess it up, or I swear, I will forge again that confounded Satanic ring, you hear me?"

Merry grimaced. "Okay. Whatever." He began to look through the chapter index, and began to laugh. "QUEER LODGINGS?" he almost yelled. "What the heck is THAT supposed to mean, Frodo! Was Bilbo…that way…?" He dissolved into a fit of giggles, dropping the book, and almost forcing Pippin to catch it.

A sigh escaped Frodo's lips. "No, you idiot. It didn't mean that at all."

"Oh, well then, I think the REAL author of this book," he started, squinting at the bottom of the parchment, "is sending some…subliminal messages…" He began to laugh uncontrollably yet again, hysterical now.

But a sudden roar of a voice echoed throughout the hobbit hole, almost sure to be heard outside, and surely to confuse any neighbors if that was the case. "IS THIS THE HOME OF FRODO BAGGINS?"

"Eep!" screeched Merry as he dodged behind the sofa. "It's God, coming to take my soul to eternal purgatory! I KNEW I shouldn't have stolen Farmer Maggot's mushrooms those fifty times, I just KNEW it!"

"No." The voice's decibels had definitely turned down, much calmer now.

"And Merry, if anything, God wouldn't take your soul. He'd take Frodo's," reasoned Pippin, biting down on a crisp apple.

"And why!" demanded Frodo. "What did I do?"

"Well," squeaked Merry, "you DID fall for the powers of a Satanic ring which almost destroyed the world."

"Eep! You're right. I must join you behind the sofa." And so he did as if he could stop God.

The voice sounded again, resolute in its endeavor to get a point across. "You fools, I am not God. I am the almighty J.R.R. Tolkien, here to say that I did NOT mean for ANY subliminal messages in that book, you hear me? No matter how many times I referred to Bilbo as queer or his clothing rooms or his particular liking for flowers, IT IS ALL IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER, YOU HEAR ME?"

Merry nodded. "Yes, your Tolkien-ness. Technically our Creator. But oh well."

"Good," said the voice, much more peaceful sounding now, and with a pop it ended.

---------------END CHAPTER ONE---------------

A/N: Yes, a bit short, and a bit stupid, but I promise it will get better. REVIEW, MY FOLLOWERS. AND BE NICE ABOUT IT.

Bwahahaha. oO FEAR ME.


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